


he ain't heavy

by ladyballs_and_manboobs



Category: SKAM (Italy)
Genre: Aftermath of Violence, Blood, Character Study, Friendship, Gen, Missing Scene, Protective!Gio
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-28
Updated: 2019-04-29
Packaged: 2019-09-01 18:02:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16770136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladyballs_and_manboobs/pseuds/ladyballs_and_manboobs
Summary: Giovanni's POV on Marti and Nico's relationship through episodes 6-8.UPDATE: now with Giovanni's POV after the fight in season 3!





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sonhoedesrazao](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sonhoedesrazao/gifts), [victbert](https://archiveofourown.org/users/victbert/gifts).



> Reposted from my Tumblr because I know you folks are hungry for content. I'm one of you.  
> Let me know what you think.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Giovanni has some trouble sleeping.

It’s 2 am on a Saturday morning and Giovanni can’t sleep.

He feels a pleasant heaviness in his every limb, the street outside is quiet, and Martino is setting a great example by snoring happily into his pillow on the other side of the bed.

Still, Giovanni’s brain is wide awake, trying to work through mountains of new information.

It wasn’t easy to get Martino to open up. He would give Giovanni furtive looks while talking, as if afraid he was oversharing or being boring, so Giovanni nodded and hmm’d and smiled along until Martino finally let go and talked himself hoarse. So, Niccolò.

The guy has a weird surname that Giovanni thinks matches his overall weirdness quite well.

He’s as amazing at playing the piano as he is hopeless at cooking a simple carbonara.

He listens to some godawful rap that Martino now apparently likes.

He is cheeky and unpredictable and probably a water polo champion.

He has an ancient phone that can go days and days on a single charge.

He’s a good kisser, if Martino’s blushes are anything to go by.

He keeps his weed in a ukulele and he keeps Martino’s heart in his pocket.

That last bit Giovanni didn’t have to be told — it’s obvious from his friend’s every expression and choice of words, from the way his voice rang with laughter at happier memories only to tighten suddenly, painfully when the story looped back to the accursed Covitti party.

Martino is a goner, and Giovanni is worried.

He could give Fares the best friend talk of the century, get Elia to stare him down, but there is nothing Giovanni can realistically do to save Martino from a devastating heartbreak. He could throw punches at anyone who dared disrespect Martino, but he couldn’t protect him from all the cruel fools of the world at once, not when Martino’s secret inevitably gets out.

All he can do, it seems, is be there for his best buddy.

* * *

Giovanni turns over to face Martino, huffing fondly at the way his hair is already sticking up on one side. There’s no way Fares woke up to this and didn’t decide to keep Martino forever.

That poor girlfriend never had a chance against his Marti.

He drifts off.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Giovanni doesn’t have the words to describe it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wasn’t planning any sequels to chapter 1, but the weekend has been too emotional to keep it all in. Giovanni Garau is my mouthpiece once more, amen.
> 
> Let me know what you think.

Leaving the cabin is a split second decision, but Giovanni’s love wizard intuition tells him it’s the right thing to do – that and the look of incredulous gratitude on Martino’s face.

He smiles as reassuringly as he can before joining the boys. _You got this, Marti._ _You got him._

“What are you grinning about?” Elia asks as they’re crossing the street, quiet and dark at this hour.

“I was right, you know. To tell Marti to send him the location. The guy showed up in fucking Bracciano.”

“Nice work”, Elia makes his impressed face that’s even more impressed when he’s high on Galvani’s supply. “Maybe next time you try to get him a boyfriend don’t make Marti wait and squirm for hours”.

“Nah, no next times. I think this one’s a keeper,” Luchino dead-pans, making them pause.

“Out of the mouths of babes,” Elia declares to no one in particular and throws his arms over Luchino’s and Giovanni’s shoulders as they walk farther and farther away from the cabin.

* * *

When they get back, there’s a strange car in the driveway, its wheels at an angle like the driver didn't have the patience to park nicely. Giovanni exchanges a glance with Elia, who raises his eyebrows and nods at the house with a devilish smile.

The glass door is not locked, and that almost leads to disaster as Luchino bursts in with a “MARTINO ARE Y—“, quickly smothered by Elia’s hand.

They shush Luchino furiously, not sure themselves why it’s so important to be quiet. But there’s something in the air inside the cabin, a gentle hum in the wake of a bigger sound, that Giovanni doesn’t have the nerve to disturb.

He feels his way down the hallway, flicks the bathroom light on. There are snickers behind him as the boys notice a chaotic pile of clothes on the floor, but Giovanni is more concerned with the bedroom door — halfway open like Martino forgot about them returning, or didn’t care.

Assured he needs to secure some privacy for Martino, he tiptoes over and starts pulling on the squeaky handle. It’s half brotherly concern and half shameful curiosity that has him throw a quick glance inside before shutting the door completely.

* * *

He finds his friends negotiating sleeping arrangements in agitated whispers. In the end, Elia gets the best pillow while Luca gets the sofa (“You’re the only one who’s short enough to fit anyway”, Elia concedes).

Luchino is out like a light while Elia and Gio try to rearrange their bones on the floor by the fireplace.

“This guy better be worth my suffering”, Elia grunts, but he doesn’t sound mad at all. “How was it?”

“Hm?”

“I saw you peeking inside, you old perv. Did they leave space for Jesus?”

Giovanni smacks him in the dark instead of an answer.

He doesn’t have the words to describe it anyway, not to Elia – the sight of them huddled together, streaks of moonlight on the duvet, Martino’s arm thrown possessively over the smaller boy’s middle.

It’s Eva who would have understood.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The meeting, the breakfast, the talk, the drive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can you believe I churned out three chapters because I love being in Giovanni Garau's head so much?? 
> 
> Let me know what you think.

It’s absolutely ridiculous how out of his depth Giovanni feels at the sight of his best friend trying to introduce his boyfriend to them.

A boyfriend that Martino reunited with under Giovanni’s masterful guidance, in Giovanni’s cabin, on Giovanni’s bed. A boyfriend that Giovanni is now meeting for a second time, somewhat more formally.

He gave this moment a lot of thought in Trevignano. _Be nice to him, but let him understand he’s not pulling this kind of shit on Marti. ever. again. that’s right._ Obviously the universe hates him because instead he’s left scrambling frantically, trying to fix his hair and brandishing a spatula like an absolute buffoon.

God, but Martino is shining, the contrast with last night’s resignation so stark Giovanni’s chest hurts a little looking at him. Then he notices a very obvious love bite on the side of Martino’s neck and, okay, this is a lot, so he drags his eyes to the other boy.

Niccolò smiles shyly at the squad, encouraging Giovanni to dig himself deeper in an attempt to make the conversation not awkward. Honestly, why is he the only one trying to build bridges here?

Nobody is prepared for Niccolò’s generous proposal, delivered with such unassuming charm Giovanni feels his defenses crumble. By the time Luchino disentangles himself from Niccolò’s warm, genuine hug, there are hardly any of those left.

* * *

The breakfast in Trevignano is a real treat, Niccolò persuading them to take their seats and dashing between the counter and the table with coffee cups and pastries. He also settles the bill without letting anyone have a look at it. After that, Giovanni can’t really tell who looks more besotted with Niccolò – Marti or Luchino.

Niccolò seems endlessly fascinated by everything Martino’s friends say or do, shaking his head like some friendly alien from a children’s TV show, excited to learn the habits of the human race. Luchino and Elia soon have him lose his first FIFA game, sample chips with jam, and laugh at the suitcase video.

Martino is content with watching it unfold and cooking for them all. Over lunch, Niccolò tells them the hilarious story of the carbonara that smelled like feet and tasted worse, doing Marti’s voice and expressions so well they all roar with laughter (Luchino manages to lodge a piece of bread in his windpipe and gives them a real fright until Elia slaps his back hard enough to topple him off the chair.)

* * *

Soon after that exciting scene, they hear barking outside, announcing the arrival of the neighbor and her three dogs. Luchino, now fully recovered after his brush with death, runs out of the cabin to pet the beasts, followed by the rest of the party. You’d think it was a travelling circus arriving to their doorstep.

Giovanni stays behind to collect the plates. He’s elbow deep in dishwater, humming Cremonini to himself, when Niccolò shuffles in and offers his help.

It would honestly be faster if Giovanni did everything himself, but he gives in and hands over the kitchen towel. Niccolò seems different somehow, thoughtful, and Giovanni waits for him to spill the beans. It worked on Martino, so it might work now.

Three washed and dried plates later, Niccolò is still chewing on his lip. The ruckus outside gets closer; they’re running out of time. 

“Why the car?”

“What?” Niccolò almost drops the plate, not expecting Giovanni to talk first.

“Why bother taking the car to Bracciano? No offence but you drive like a grandma. A bus from Termini would have been faster.”

Niccolò stays silent for so long Giovanni decides he’s not going to get an answer. 

Then, raspy, “I didn’t know where exactly I was going….or if Marti would want to see me. I thought, if he doesn’t answer my calls or… if he throws me out, I’ll sleep in the car and try again in the morning.” Niccolò holds Giovanni’s gaze. “He let me understand it was my last chance.”

Suddenly Giovanni feels guilty for helping Martino make that message so harsh.

“You don’t think I’m right for him.” It doesn’t come out as a question. Niccolò sounds like he knows the answer already.

This pair is going to be the death of him. Giovanni leaves the last plate in the sink and turns to face Niccolo fully, clears his throat.

“Okay, listen, bro. Marti has went through a lot this year, even before he met you, and definitely after. But I’m not blind. Being with you makes him happier than I’ve ever seen him. If you can keep that up, we’re fine. That’s all there is to it.”

Niccolò’s face goes through at least five emotions during that speech, settling on a mixture of gratitude and resolution. Giovanni feels accomplished.

“What’s going on?” Marti’s suddenly at the door, breathless and looking suspiciously between their faces.

“Actually… Niccolò is teaching me to wash the plates like they do in London.”

* * *

If Giovanni closes his eyes and leans against the glass, it feels exactly like he’s a kid again, snug and sleepy in the backseat as the Garau family is returning from another weekend trip. The gentle hum of the engine, the soft glow of the dashboard in the dark, the barely audible murmurs of Radio Anni 60… it’s been a long time since he felt this content. Even the crushing weight of Luchino draped over his lap doesn’t bother him in the slightest.

He feels at peace with the world.

Directly in front of him, Niccolò is changing gears with careful precision – it’s not second nature to him, but he’s not nervous either. Martino is riding shotgun, his whole body turned to Niccolò and his gaze never straying from the side of Niccolò’s face.

As they’re entering Rome, Niccolò takes his right hand off the wheel to quickly squeeze Martino’s hand. He doesn’t dare look away from the congested road, just reaches over blindly, as if to reassure himself Martino hasn’t vanished into thin air.

There it is again, the ache in Giovanni’s chest. He closes his eyes and doesn’t open them until Niccolò is dropping them off at Termini.

* * *

“Stop looking so forlorn, mama bear. They’ll be just fine without your supervision.” Elia’s teasing drags his attention away from Niccolò’s car as it crawls away from the curb and disappears in the traffic.

“I’m not forlorn,” he scoffs. Elia just likes to make him look dramatic.

His and Elia’s phones give out synchronized beeps.

_martino.rametta has posted for the first time in a while_

They both stare at Martino’s lake selfie, his and Niccolò’s identical satisfied expressions illuminated by the sunset. Elia huffs and gives Giovanni a sly look.

“I know exactly what you’re thinking right now.”

“Of course you don’t.” Then, frustrated, “Okay, what am I thinking?”

“That Nico is one of ours now, and we’ll have to protect him too.” The sly look is gone -- this is Elia at his most serious. And honestly, Giovanni is so grateful for his friends sometimes.

As if on cue, Luchino appears, two overflowing Venchi cups in each sticky hand. “There you go guys!”

“Martino left with Nico, you didn’t have to get gelato for him, stupid.”

“No, no, these two are for me. I couldn’t decide which kind I wanted.”

Elia’s booming laugh makes passers-by turn their heads. 

“Luchino, you animal, I love you to death. Now let’s catch this bus before I freeze my balls off.”

They half-jog to the bus stop, giggling and talking around spoonfuls of gelato. 

“Have you guys seen Martino pretend he doesn’t know how a seatbelt works?”

“So that Nico has to lock it for him? Yeah.”

“Absolutely ridiculous. We have to keep him.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to all who read and commented, you enthusiasm helped me finish this. I'd love to write more for the fandom, but this fic is now complete. 
> 
> Tanti baci a tutti


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Giovanni picks up the pieces. Set directly after "Non uscite".

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Seeing the show sweep the aftermath of both fights under the rug was...painful to say the least. So I took the matters in my own hands. Thanks Fandom Vibes people for specifically asking Fede about it and giving me ideas.
> 
> betaed by the queen Fxckxxp herself. I'm so so lucky to have you

_Being deeply loved by someone gives you strength,_  
_while loving someone deeply gives you courage._ _  
Lao Tzu_

It makes Giovanni sick to his stomach, to think that it’s Marti’s.

Actually, it might be his own, or from one of those assholes he was trying to murder with his bare hands. But the thought that it’s Marti’s won’t leave his head as Giovanni glares at the dark red smudges on the cuffs of his shirt. He wants to take it off, get rid of the sweat and the dirt that seeped into every thread.

Giovanni forgets all about it when the sound of a flush announces Martino is about to leave the stall at last. He’s locked himself in there as soon as the police were done taking their statements, and Giovanni was getting worried. 

But the relief of seeing his best friend shuffle out is short-lived. It seems that in the time Giovanni’s eyes were off him, the swelling around Martino’s nose got worse and the last string holding up his exhausted body has been cut.

“Ok, Marti?”

They both know it’s a dumb question, given the circumstances. All Giovanni wants is for Martino to lift his head and look him in the eye. Then he’d be able to read all he needs to know.

But Martino doesn’t give him that. His hands rise to his chest in slow motion, pulling apart the lapels of his blazer. “Ruined the shirt.”

It used to be a nice shirt indeed: Korean collar, slim fit, white as snow. Marti was so smug when he showed up in it, not least because Nico had picked it for him.

Now the entire front is covered in ugly splotches, a mix of blood and water from the ice Luca procured for Marti’s face. (Thanks to Luchi, they had a whole bucket of the stuff. God knows where he chucked the bottle that was supposed to go with it.)

“Hey, let me see.” It’s an echo of his frantic appeals to a stunned Martino less than an hour ago, quieter and calmer but no less concerned.

With a sigh, Martino lets Giovanni’s gentle fingers angle his face to the light, inspecting the damage.

“It’s just a bit of blood, Gio. The biggest bruise is on my pride.”

Pronouncements like this are the side-effect of dating Nico, Giovanni knows. For every _coatto_ thing Nico picks up from the squad, he seems to teach them (but mostly Marti) another poetic turn of phrase.

“I’ll be fine,” Martino insists, finally meeting his eyes straight on.

Giovanni believes him.

Marti is the strongest person he knows.

* * *

Martino is peering into his phone, leaning against the wall outside while the rest of the group surrounds him like seasoned bodyguards. On a different day, someone would probably crack a joke about it. The party is still booming in the background — impossibly, offensively so. Giovanni thinks he’s had enough of partying for a month at least.

“Sure you don’t want to stay with one of us tonight?” Elia checks when they see the long-awaited taxi crawl down the street in their direction.

Martino shakes his head. “I don’t want Nico to find out from somebody else.”

It’s not just that, of course. The last time, all it took for Marti to calm down was Nico pushing through the crowd to lay his hands on Marti’s cheeks. Marti pulled him into an embrace and they hid their faces in each other’s necks for a long moment, completely immobile. After that, Marti was able to smile again.

(Luchino later said they reminded him of Emperor penguins huddling for warmth through Antarctic winter storms. The look of awe on his face kept Giovanni from making any comment.)

The three of them watch the tail lights of the taxi disappear in the distance. Elia is the first to break the silence.

“Well, I’m going to try and get nicely drunk while I can. Who’s with me?”

“Sorry, bro. I’m walking home.”

“That’s quite a walk.”

“I need it.”

Elia studies his face in the half-light; Giovanni doesn’t try to hide anything. Finally, Elia nods and turns to a weirdly quiet Luchino.

“You?”

“I’m with Gio.”

There’s more to be said after a night like this, but for the moment he and Luca exchange tight hugs with Elia and go on their way.

The night air is chilly, making Giovanni remember he left his jacket somewhere at the party. Fuck it, he’s not going back there.

“Do you think all of them came to find Marti?” Luchino sounds shaken, nothing like his usual animated self.

“No, I don’t think so. But all of them were ready to hurt him.” And he almost let them.

Luca’s question brings back the mental images Giovanni was trying hard to avoid. Marti’s head snapping back with the force of the punch. Marti staggering and pressing his hands to his face. The small choking sounds he made trying to breathe around his nosebleed. The panic in his eyes when he realized Giovanni was staying behind to fight.

Anger flares up again, and Giovanni’s tongue tastes like metal. He has to force himself to concentrate on Luca’s voice instead of kicking the first bin in sight.

“You know, I never cared about the way I am before, but today… I wish I was as big as Incanti.”

“Huh?”

Luca’s voice rises to a near-hysterical note. “I wish I wasn’t this useless, Gio. Nico trusted me, and I’m just useless.”

Giovanni stops in his tracks to catch hold of Luchi’s shoulders, stiff with distress. “What are you on about? What does Nico have to do with anything?”

“Nico asked me to keep an eye on Marti tonight. Make sure he wouldn’t get in trouble. I fucked up so bad, I was the last to know. I failed him.”

Giovanni doesn’t say that Nico is mostly joking when he sends Luchino on missions like that. That’s not what Luchi needs to hear right now.

“You’re not useless, bro, not even close. You got Marti out of there. That’s the most important job as far as Nico is concerned.”

The tension drains out of Luchi and he looks up at Giovanni hopefully. “Really?”

“One hundred percent.” Giovanni ruffles his blond hair until Luchi wiggles out of reach. “Don’t know what we’d do without you.”

* * *

_September 2008_

Marti sneaks into the room, his fist clenched around something in the pocket of his Spiderman hoodie.

“I have to bring it back before they notice, mom would have a fit if she saw me with it.”

“Hurry up, then.”

The boys kneel solemnly in front of each other, heads bowed together like they’re conspiring. Martino goes a bit pale as he presses the tip of his dad’s pocket knife to his thumb. Giovanni almost suggests they call it off. They could always try something else, like the paired “best friends forever” lockets that Eva and her girlfriends from school get for each other. But it’s too late – Marti inhales sharply, and a single scarlet drop wells up quickly from the small cut.

“Now you.”

Giovanni makes quick work of it, pricking his thumb and pressing it to Marti’s.

“Blood brothers?”

“Blood brothers.”

The ritual is complete.

Marti flashes him an ecstatic smile before springing to his feet and running off to return the ritual weapon. Giovanni stays put, scrutinizing the smudge of bright red on the pad of his finger.

It makes Giovanni feel ten feet tall, to think that it’s Marti’s.


End file.
